


What You're Afraid to Lose

by Regen



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 21:18:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5717473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regen/pseuds/Regen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ilia Trevelyan has a brush with her greatest personal fear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You're Afraid to Lose

Skyhold was disconcertingly quiet tonight. Ilia walked out into the throne room from her quarters, pausing when she saw no one. It was late but there were usually at least some guards lingering, or soldiers waiting to go on watch. Instead, she was met with deafening silence and a stillness that stirred up unease.

"Okay, Cullen," she muttered as she headed for the front doors. "We need to have a little chat about your soldiers..."

As she approached the entrance, she stopped suddenly. From outside somewhere she could hear voices. Several of them. She took another few steps, pushing against one of the enormous doors to open them. With much effort, one cracked open. The voices became clearer, and she realized they were singing.

"What?" Her brow puckered as she poked her head out to see what was going on. As soon as she did, her heart plummeted.

An immense crowd had gathered in the courtyard. They were garbed in all black, singing a dirge. In the middle of the crowd there stood an enormous pyre. The Inquisitor couldn't see a body on it; the funeral must have just begun.

Her mind began racing, trying to remember who had died. No one had mentioned anything to her about a funeral, and her jaw clenched in anger. As the Inquisitor she wanted to know, whether it was a foot soldier or servant. They had died while under her command; she wanted to see them off.

She searched the crowd for the familiar faces of her friends and advisors. She spotted most of them quickly, save for one. Cullen was nowhere to be found.

Down in the courtyard, Leliana's eyes met hers. Immediately the spymaster began moving towards her. Ilia began descending the stairs, her brain rattled with questions.

Leliana met her at the bottom of the stairs, her expression carefully composed. "Inquisitor, you should go back inside."

"Why?" Ilia demanded, looking around. "And where's Cullen? That was a soldier's funeral dirge they were singing," she said, finally recognizing the song. "He of all people would be here."

She suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder and felt herself being pulled back. Without looking to see who it was, she ducked down and away from the restraining hand. She stumbled into the crowd and made her way in, ignoring Leliana’s shouts. She skirted around the funeral goers and made her way towards the pyre.

From her left she saw Iron Bull move towards her, with Cassandra and Dorian coming from her right. _Why are they stopping me?_ she wondered in exasperation, but still her body moved towards an escape route. By now, she had drawn the attention of the crowd, and a few were shifting to block her path. Trapped, she had no choice but to go into stealth. She vanished from sight, stepping quietly around the people swarming the spot where she had been.

Ilia reached the edge of the crowd, shuffling between two nobles before stepping out into the open. She pulled out of stealth and walked towards the pyre. She heard someone calling for her but she ignored them again. She had a right to know who was being put to rest. _Why are they_ -

Over her shoulder, she saw a group of soldiers carrying a body in a procession. The crowd fell silent. Ilia turned and stared, trying to see who it was they were laying to rest.

Despite the earlier disruption, the soldiers proceeded with the body towards the pyre. As they drew closer to where the Inquisitor stood, a sickening dread crawled through her system. Her knees began to shake. Somehow she knew, before she saw the mop of curls atop the stretcher, before she recognized the dark fur of his mantle. She knew who it was.

_No._

“It can’t – no, that’s impossible. He can’t be…” She began to run towards the procession, shouting at them to stop. _Don’t do this to me. Don’t you_ dare _do this to me, Cullen!_ “Let me see him! He’s not dead, he _can’t be dead-“_

A sob ripped out from her throat as she stumbled and fell. Crowd-goers gathered around her, stopping her from interrupting the funeral any more. A pair of hands grabbed her shoulders and yanked her back. She thrashed and shrieked against their hold, even going so far as to dig and claw at the skin.

“Let me go! Let me see him!” Her lungs felt like they were on fire as she drew in ragged breaths. Wracking sobs threatened to overtake her and paralyze her. The hands continued to pull her back; Ilia retaliated by bringing her elbow up before slamming them into their owner’s ribcage.

She heard them wheeze – she vaguely recognized it as Blackwall – and his hold loosened. She escaped and broke into a sprint. The crowd surged in front of her but she charged into them, knocking them back and breaking through.

“Cullen!” she screamed, pushing away the last of the hands reaching out to stop her. “Cullen, _please_ , don’t be-”

Ilia stumbled to a halt next to the processional, having now stopped due to the commotion she caused. The soldiers looked at her uneasily, but she hardly noticed as she took a shaky step towards the stretcher.

And there he laid: her commander, her lover, her future. The light of her life and the one whom so many of her hopes and dreams had come to revolve around. But no more. There was no denying the stillness of death that had settled into his limbs, or the pallor that tainted his skin. Her fingers reached out and brushed across his lips. They were cold, like a blast of ice from an angry mage.

He was dead.

“No. No no no no no no…” Ilia shook her head rapidly, fingers gripping and ripping at her hair. “Why? How? No. No, Maker, please. _Please don’t do this to me!_ ”

She could no longer fight the sobs. Collapsing into a heap, her body shook from the force of them racking her frame. “Please…” She clutched at her chest, like it could help stifle the pain. Her breaths came out hard and ragged, struggling to breathe through the sobbing and the tears. “Come back to me. Don’t leave me. Come back.

“ _Maker, Cullen! Come back!”_

The scream had just escaped from her throat when she jolted into consciousness. She bolted upright in her bed, gasping for breath in the chilly Frostback air. The room seemed to spin around her, amplified by the Anchor sparking and sending searing strands of pain up her arm. Her mind struggled to come out of the Fade, the vestiges of the nightmare still clinging to it.

“Ilia.”

Her head snapped to her right. Next to her was Cullen, eyes wide and startled from being woken up so suddenly. The glow from her Anchor illuminated the space around them, revealing the shock and grief that lingered in her expression.

He reached towards her. “It was a dream, you’re all right.”

“Cull-” A choked out sob cut her off. She could feel them welling up inside her again. All but diving onto him, Ilia buried her face into the crook of his neck and heaved out a shaky breath. “S-Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Shhh.” He kissed her forehead, running a soothing hand up and down her back. The other gently covered her left hand, running a thumb over the Anchor in an attempt to settle it. It pricked at his skin, but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. “It’s all right. Maker knows I’ve woken _you_ up enough times with my nightmares.” Her body trembled, and his grip on her tightened marginally. “I will listen if you want to talk.”

Ilia took a few steadying breaths, refusing to have another breakdown. She inhaled deeply, taking in Cullen’s scent. It helped ground her, remind her that he was there and alive. “You… There was a funeral. Didn’t know whose it was, and they didn’t want me to see.

“I fought my way through and I saw them carrying you. You were dead.” She squeezed her eyes shut, and unwillingly a few tears leaked out. “I didn’t handle it well. It was such a shock.”

His lips pressed to her forehead again. She snuggled closer against him, needing the warmth and closeness only he could provide.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured. Her heart clenched at the endearment; he only called her that in their most vulnerable moments. “I’m right here, and I’m all right. Still, that must have been… Even in my dreams, I don’t think I’ve ever endured that. Er, you – not me dying, but rather your-”

“I know what you meant.” Ilia pressed a kiss to the base of his neck. “Be glad you haven’t. The Anchor makes them much worse. They’re so much more vivid than they used to be.”

“Wretched thing,” he muttered, squeezing her marked hand in his. “Between my lyrium withdrawal and that Anchor, it’s a wonder we get any sleep.”

The Inquisitor snorted out a laugh. She lifted up her head and looked at her commander, reaching up to cup his cheek. Despite the nightmare still plaguing the corners of her mind, she already felt a little lighter. “As leaders of the Inquisition, I think an ability to run on no sleep is a requisite.”

“All too true.” Cullen smiled as he leaned into her touch. “Will you be all right? I can try and find us something if you can’t-”

Ilia shook her head before he finished. “No, I’ll be fine. You should try and get back to sleep. I might try and get some correspondences done.” Sleep was going to elude her tonight, so she wasn’t going to bother to try.

“If you’re not going back to sleep, neither am I.”

Or not, if Cullen was going to be stubborn. Which he always was. “Cullen…”

“Now you know how I feel when you insist on staying up with me.” He nudged her. “Try for an hour or so. If you don’t, then we’ll get up.”

“You’ll fall asleep by then.”

He smirked. “I think you’ll beat me to it.”

Normally she loved that smirk of his, but at the moment, it was a tad infuriating. She huffed out a sigh and snuggled back against him. “Fine. One sovereign says we’ll be getting up, though.”

She felt more than heard his chuckle as he settled into the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re on, Inquisitor.”

Letting herself relax, Ilia closed her eyes, deciding to enjoy the downtime before she got up in an hour to get to work. It was nice, to just be held like this, knowing he was there and alive. The sound of his breathing soothed her, each one a little reminder that the fear and panic that still had a hold on her was needless. _He’s fine, he’s safe, he’s here. It’s all right,_ she repeated to herself, over and over for what felt like hours…

She woke to the feeling of Cullen running his fingers up and down her spine. Blearily she opened an eye, greeted by the sight of him smirking. “Morning,” Cullen murmured against her ear. “I’m still here, and you’re out a sovereign.”

“Bastard,” she muttered, even as she smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.


End file.
